The question of healing
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Until I get to heaven, I will probably always be autistic, yet I am in no hurry to leave this life. Nobody can walk in my shoes but me, so no one is able to experience my silence of speech and inside-of-my-body thoughts but me, so most people don’t think my life is good. They pity me. Sometimes I have my own pity parties too, but there is no need to pity me. My life is good. I have a good family and lots of friends and a college education. Nobody reads faster than I do. Helpful people surround me everyday. Some day my life will end and it will have been a good life in which I have contributed as much to others as they have to me.
Full now of good intentions to say that I am happy to be just autistic, honesty compells me to confess that all is not perfect in my life. I wish that I could verbalize my thoughts when I want to. It is hard to make close friendships when it takes me so long to spell out my thoughts through a facilitator. Also, my chosen career, journalism, is hard to pursue because I write so slowly. So, would I like to be cured of my autism? You bet I would!